Jan. 31


TRINIDAD & TOBAGO:

Beyond a death penalty nation


Imagine, if you will, being the man caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Imagine being the friend of a man who's made some mistakes and is trying to fix them. Imagine being put on death row because attempting to protect yourself turned into a gruesome accident. Imagine being caught in the wrong crowd, not knowing how to escape, wanting to make a change in your life but being denied it until it's too late. Imagine someone you care about making a father figure out of a life of crime because he doesn't feel connected to society, and being unable to help him till his life continues to spiral.

Imagine the death penalty robbing us of the opportunity to take people willing and able to change for the better by restorative justice and contributing positively to society. Imagine that, instead of the grace alluded by Jesus that is capable of setting the captives free of their criminal mistakes, we choose not to work toward reconciliation, but instead to take an eye for an eye and call it our justice system.

Imagine our nation becoming a death penalty state…

Now, imagine a better way:

In Bastoy, 46 miles from Oslo, Norway, there is a place where little more than one hundred citizens have luxurious wooden cabins, a private movie theatre, a country club, and even ski jumps when winter rolls around. However, this is not a resort for the elite in society — this is Norway's Bastoy Prison, for hardened criminals. There are no electric fences or barred windows; murderers, drug dealers and sex offenders all share the same space and even work together on the island, with each citizen gaining jobs on the island for which they get paid, and timely attendance is mandatory; there has only been one escape attempt in its history, a failed one, and there has never been an incident of violence against staff, fellow inmates or even visitors, even though the facility is minimum-security. Prisons like Bastoy are responsible for Norway's re-offence rate being lower than the rest of Europe, at 20 per cent compared to over 50 per cent in the United Kingdom.

In Kitchener, Ontario, Canada, there is a project called the Victim-Offender Reconciliation Programme, or VORP. Here, offenders of violent crime can voluntarily seek to speak with the victims and their families, allowing not only those families to voice their hurt and pain for having to suffer by his hand, but those offenders to apologise, voice their own pains at being social castaways, and together make amends not only in each other's lives but in the life of the greater society. Violent crime in Canada, as a result, was recorded in 2006 as merely 12.6 per cent, their lowest since 25 years prior, and it is still in steep decline.

When we partake in destructive justice practices like the death penalty, we are not ending the cycle, but fuelling it—we tell the criminal element that all they can do for themselves is to remain castaways on the fringes of our peaceful society. When a young man who has lost his way makes a mistake, the death penalty tells him there is no chance of him continuing to live and changing his ways, and his only other option is to continue down the wayward path. In effect, because we threaten the lost young man with death, we give birth to men who do not fear death because it could be around any corner.

When we partake in restorative justice practices like those I ask you to imagine, we are telling even the most hardened of criminals that there is a chance for them to be better citizens. We are telling them we can trust them to change, and in turn we make a change in their hearts, making them more able to trust society after poverty and disenfranchisement have embittered them and closed their hearts to the good that society can do for them.

Instead of making the promise to take an eye for an eye, we should consider instead making the promise to do good work, to let the spirit of righteous compassion act through us so we may in turn empower offenders in Trinidad and Tobago, no matter what the offence, to turn their lives around and make uplifting contributions in their communities without feeling like tools to be used or lepers to be shunned. If we make them feel like people—respected equals who should be held accountable for their heinous criminal actions but are still trusted to make a change, and not considered lesser than those outside the prison walls—we will be surprised how quickly they make a marked improvement and start treating us like respected equals as well.

"Doh Do Death" is a social media movement aimed at the abolition of the death penalty in Trinidad and Tobago. Formed in early 2011 under a broader human rights movement called A Bleeding Heart, the group's major objectives are to educate and sensitise citizens of Trinidad and Tobago to the realities of the death penalty.

(source: Brandon O'Brien is a spoken word artist, writer and activist. He is the co-founder of the activist collective A Bleeding Heart; Trinidad & Tobago Express)
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